


A Thousand Words (or less)

by Naemae



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Adorable family, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, All these tags are here because my memory is terrible, Baking, Best Friends, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Homophobia, Homosexuality, Humanstuck, I have a rough outline of this story's plot, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Minor Character Death, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Underage, Photography, Prostitution, Sad, Slice of Life, Unplanned Pregnancy, past anorexia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5563285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemae/pseuds/Naemae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't easy living alone in a new city. Especially when you have to keep up with your studies, pay bills, deal with a lovable drunk woman, and somehow manage to get some sleep. Did you mention you're into women? No? Good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your name is Jane Crocker, and you feel like an idiot.

You are standing outside of The Veil after a long night at work. The sidewalk is practically empty except for a few singing and dancing stragglers from the club. You avoid them effectively. By effectively, you mean awkwardly smiling and waving at each hello you receive, and attempting to back away from every faceless person that tries to hug you or ask you out. Drunk people creep you out. Which is silly, because you are a bartender at the hottest club in the south of Houston (which you suspect only the club claims to be).

You have been working part-time in The Veil for nearly a month, and you hate it. You don't drink, you don't like drunk people, the hours are unholy, and you have to lie about having a boyfriend so men will stop trying to hit on you while you try to work. The only reason you tolerate the madness is because the tips are incredible, and you really need the money.

A few months ago, you moved to Houston to study. You plan on owning a bakery one day and that business won't manage itself. Texas might be a bit of a stretch for someone who was born and raised in Washington, but Houston was the only acceptance you gained for university, and that's because your uncle works there and loves you dearly.

You aren't overly keen on Houston either. It's much to hot, even during this time of winter. You are still wearing skirts and tank tops to avoid heat stroke. You are not used to this kind of crazy heat, you are more of a rainy day kind of girl. The people of Texas aren't that charming either; they are loud and boastful and overly opinionated and not very accepting of people like you. Which is a stupid thing to say; _people like you_. You think of yourself as just another person, while a lot of other people disagree. Being a lesbian is a stigma; once people know about it, they think that's all there is to you. You don't particularly care; romance was never your speciality, especially since you moved to Houston.

You keep to yourself, and you go with the flow. Nobody bothers you, not _that_ much anyway.

Your feet shuffle impatiently as you wait for Sebastian to pick you up. Sebastian is the sweetest cab driver in the world, you have decided. He is always complimenting you, asking how you are and what you're up to, how you're shifts were, how your studies are going. He is a real gentleman, he even walks you to your door when it's a ghastly hour.

You check your watch and notice it's five in the morning now, which means you called Lil' Seb ten minutes ago. You sigh, and clutch the strap of your old tan bag. Seb must be pretty far away. Maybe you would get a different driver tonight? That thought fills you with grief, as some of the drivers were grumpy old farts.

You shift your glasses out of boredom and an urgent need to fidget.

It was one hell of a night. It was a saturday night after all and every young adult with enough money from their parent's pockets turned the dance floor into what you like to call _ **THE ULTIMATE MOSH PIT**_. You giggle lightly at your own silliness in the silence of the stree-

A loud moan interrupts your train of thought.

Your eyes widen, and you admit you jump a little at the sound. Carefully, you look around to see if you are just imagining it. You might be, you've done crazier things.

The moan comes again, following a much lower groan.

Oh good grief.

You cringe and stare at your toes. You can feel your face redden as the noises continue.

" _Uugh.._. _Fuck..._ "

You bite your lip and stare at your watch again. _Hurry, Seb, please! Y_ ou think as the pain of the situation increases dramatically.

"... _Yes, yes, yes_..." The pants and moans increase as well, and you want to walk home it's becoming that unbearable.

You spare a glance behind you, where you know the voices are coming from. A man and a woman, in the alleyway at the side of the club, doing the dirty. You manage a groan of your own, but yours is one of grief.

They become louder as the seconds tick by, which feels more like minutes to you, maybe to them too, however, you don't know, and don't care. You just want them to get their business done with and move along.

You hear a crash from the alleyway that sounds like multiple trash cans hitting the concrete, and then a needy set of cries.

_How the hell has no one else notice this? Like some cops or something?_ _Isn't what they are doing illegal? Public indecency or something?_

Your heart beats out of tune as you hear the courtship reach it's climax. After a minute, you hear the man speak, but it is too low to hear.

You hear the woman, though. " _Hahh, what_? What did jou-do?"

There is no reply, but you can hear some stumbling and shuffling.

" _Ohh shits-ah_ , what did you _do_ to me...?" The woman says, in a slur of drunken confusion. "I can't feel my- What did you _do_ to me?" She cries.

You look around at that, and feel a strong sense of urgency and fear.

"No no no, why are you- stop it-" She sounds faint, and you scurry closer to hear, hiding behind the corner which leads to the alleyway.

When you take a peek into the shadows, you see a woman sitting there, slouching against the wall of the alley. Her skirt barely covers her thighs, and she looks a mess. Her light hair is damp, and curls out at her shoulders, and her face looks oddly vacant. It doesn't take you long to realise that she was drugged, as the man rifles through her purse.

You are not a confrontational person. Your first instinct is to avoid danger and conflict, and any other unsavoury situations. You do not really understand where your scream comes from when you hear it, "HEY! What are you doing?!"

The man looks up at you, and flinches, and throws the purse down at the woman. He immediately turns and runs down the opposite end of the alley, and into what you can only guess is a labyrinth of shady back streets.

"I've called the cops!" You yell in an echo, and don't care to contemplate the lie as you rush over to the woman who is still lying against the graffiti stained wall.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" You ask, and lean down to hold her arms. You shake them, and gain a response from the young blonde woman.

"Imma, shit... I feel weird..." Is all she says as she stroke her hair, which looked like a pained action. "I have to go... The cops, and _the_ , oh crap... No, _shit_... Please get me out of here, they can't find me... I'm doin' this-stuff..."

You frown, and bring her closer so you can try and help to stand. "I didn't call the cops, but you need to go to a hospital! I think you were drugged."

She pushes you away weakly, "no! You can't, the social woman will find out, she'll take my babies away from me, please!"

This makes your heart sink.

She looks you in the eye, and you can tell she is putting a lot of effort into keeping her lashes from falling. Her iris appears pink, you notice. _Is she wearing contacts?_ Actually, you recognise her. She was at the bar last night, and that man had bought her a few drinks...

"I love them so much, please... I can't-I just _can't_ lose them..."

"I need to at least take you somewhere safe!" You stroke her arm to bring her some sort of comfort. She might be okay if she just gets some rest. You hope there is someone able to take care of her if she gets worse. "Where do you live? I can take you home."

She looks away, and sniffs dryly, "Dirk won't be happy... They'll see me like, like this..."

Your heart goes out to her when she says this. She was cheating, and was drugged, and had kids. You think of her as stupid, and a bad mother, and a terrible partner (you fail to notice a ring, but she could have removed it). But the way she looks right now makes you feel so sad. She looks so broken.

"... It's okay," you say, "I'll explain to him you were, uh." You have no idea what to say. "That you, um, took a tumble on the dance floor, and don't feel well."

She giggles poorly, "that's so stuupid. He's not gullullibubble or anything, but, _um_ , thanks, um... Eri... Emily?"

"Oh, my name is Jane. I work at The Veil."

"You look like an Emily," is all she says.

You look her over for a moment, and see that she is indeed a wreck. Only an idiot would believe your story.

"I'm uh, my name's Roxy, if you'd like to _know_ , I think, maybe," she frowns, as if her own voice is intimidating her.

"I've got a cab coming, if you'd like a ride home, Roxy."

She nods, and looks out at the street, "I- Yeah, that sounds great."

You nod, and force yourself to smile, at least for her sake. Any kind of positive gesture seems to be of benefit to her at this point. "Alrighty then, let's get you out of this terrible place!"

She offers you her arms, similarly to a child wanting to be picked up. This causes you to squint at her, because she expects you to lift her, and your upper body strength is not that great. Baking requires a ridiculous amount of upper body strength, but people are rather different to dough and cake mix.

Nonetheless, you attempt to pull her up.

"Oh, okay, right, less wobbling, left a smidge, okay, oh dear, yes, alright," you shuffle up with her, but she is leaning too far right as if she doesn't understand gravity. You both nearly make it, before she falls down and takes you with her. You fall on top of her, and she wheezes.

"Janey, I _think_ that you just busted my _lungs_..." She breathes.

"Sorry, Roxy!" You crawl back and push your dark bangs to the side. "Okay... Can you try to stand at all?"

She pushes herself up with a significant grunt, but to no avail, "I... I can't move... My hands, and arms, and... I can't feel them..."

You pout, and stroke her arm again for comfort, but know she can't feel it now. At least she can see you're trying to help her. "I'm sorry, I'm not very strong. I think lil' Seb could help, he's the cab driver, I hope."

She nods, and looks away from you with a red tinge to her cheeks.

You search your tan bag and find your phone somewhere near the bottom, underneath a load of lip stick (helps win more tips at the bar, you discovered), your purse, some tampax (you never know), and a ragged old copy of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen.

You have Sebastian on speed dial, because he's a little sweetheart. He answers after a a couple of rings, "hello?... Hey Seb, yes... You are? Oh, sorry, I had no idea you called, yes, that's wonderful! I actually have an extra passenger for you this morning... Yeah, okay... We're in the alley next to the club... NONO! It's okay, we're both... Okay, yes... That would be great, thank you, Seb."

No sooner after you end the call does Seb come jogging down the alleyway.

"'Llo there, ma'am," he tips his baseball cap, which makes you smile just a bit. You love a well spoken gentleman. "Alright, let's get you into the cab, lil' lady."

"Thanks..." Roxy whispers as she accepts both your arm and Seb's, and with his splendid assistance, it takes no time at all to get the blonde woman into the cab. You settle her in the back and buckle her into her seat with practiced precision. After which, you jump in next to her and buckle your own belt. Safety first!

"So where y' headed, miss?" Seb asks as he closes the driver's door and starts up the engine.

You look over to Roxy when she doesn't reply. Perhaps she thought he was talking to you? You gentle rub her bare arm, and call her name in a soft stroke of your tongue.

You realise then that she is now asleep, and so does Seb when a loud snort bellows from the young blonde.

"Wonk..." She mumbles as she sprawls out over most of the back of the cab.

"Um..." You hate drunk people, they're so dysfunctional. "You know what, Seb... I think it would be alright if she sobers up at my place. That's not weird, is it?"

He looks back at you as his dark hands grip the wheel. "Well, ma'am, in this day an' age, I suppose it would be fine. If you were a young man, I might've opposed the idea. But you are one fine young lady, and trust me when I say this, there ain't a lot of those around nowadays."

You flush with a short giggle, and swish your hand in his direction. "Oh shoosh, Seb."

Seb pulls away from the sidewalk, and follows the route you recognise leads to your home. "I don't know much about you, young lady. But from what I've seen from these short journeys, you are one of a kind. Truly. All these young kids heading around with their screamin' an' their drinkin' an' their weed. I've seen a lot of terrible shit in my time, and I hope you pardon my language. But you are one off the most delightful people I have ever met. It's a real breath 'o fresh air."

You look away in slight embarrassment, "I'm flattered, Seb. You've been nothing but a true gentleman! Hoo hoo!"

The rest of the drive was relatively quiet. Seb knows your routine, and your shifts always leave you drowsy, you were up all night watching people get hammered. How ironic that you cannot drink when you are the one with access to every kind of alcohol. After five minutes, Seb turns the radio on at a low volume. You love piano music, and you've informed Seb on a previous drive. The low melodic string of the piano keys brings out a yawn from you.

You glance over at Roxy, and in your half sleeping state, consider her beauty. She is slim, and pale. And her hair is a rather light blonde, almost white, as if dyed. But there is no indication of a darker shade near the roots. How strange, you think. How pretty.

Her lips are parted, and purple lipstick is smudged around the natural pink. You wonder for a moment what they might feel like if you give them a quick peck.

Roxy hums in her sleep, and licks her lips.

A hint of a smile appears against your cheeks. She's quite pleasing to the eye, despite her sorry state. How tragic it was, that someone so youthful should have another person violate their body in such a disturbing manner.

You frown, and brush your fingers down her arm. "Poor thing..." You whisper.

She shivers under your touch, and you fear it isn't out of pleasure, so you retract your hand back down to your lap.

Roxy is wearing a short, and torn pink skirt, a dirtied white shirt with an obvious bright pink bra underneath. Her feet lack protection, but you consider the possibility that she put them in her bag.

You sigh quietly, and wonder where the hell she's going to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

You truly are an idiot.

You have never taken someone to your home before. Not even your friends, most of whom were left behind in Washington. You've never invited a date home, because you're not that kind of girl, and you never really had a decent opportunity to date during or after high school. Long story short; taking a random blonde woman to your house is quite bizarre of you.

You have the regular fears of inviting a stranger into your home; what if she's a thief, or a murderer? The woman clearly didn't care for decency, as she was _doing the dirty_ in the alley next to your work. So she could be capable of any number of things! But as she lies there unconscious on the living room sofa with the spare blanket draping over her loosely, you can't help but imagine that it could have been you. The woman was basically attacked last night by some sick creep during your shift. You are at fault in this regard. You should have noticed the man slip something into her drink. But you didn't, and it is your fault she was harmed and humiliated.

It is now midday, and you have been awake for an hour. Initially, you were hesitant to go downstairs to check on Roxy. The whole situation freaks you out. You half expected her to be gone, along with everything that wasn't nailed to the floor. But when you finally plucked the courage to peek through the banister of the stairs into the open living room, Roxy was still lying there.

You sigh shakily and sit back on the stairs, clutching your knees. You shouldn't have done this. It is completely out of character. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should have taken her to the hospital and explained the situation to them and left the proper authorities to do their job. It isn't your job to save the victims of lower Houston. You freaking bake, and dogsit, and pour drinks, and watch Netflix at six in the morning. You're not some kind of part-time vigilante! You have enough on your plate already...

"Um, Jane?"

You glance behind you, and catch sight of Jake, who is crouched curiously a few steps up. His bed hair is prominent, the fringe is still sticking to his forehead and the rest is chaotic. Like you, Jake didn't care on a sunday. Well, at least you brushed your hair.

"Hi," you say simply, unsure of what exactly to say. You never mentioned to Jake anything about the guest; he was asleep. You probably should have left a note at least. It was Jake's house after all, and _you_ were the guest. He was kind enough to offer you a place to stay until you get on your feet. But you stopped looking for apartments and things a few weeks ago; much too extensive. So now you stay here with him until you find yourself in a more comfortable financial situation. He never seemed upset at all by it, in fact, you practically had to enforce a rent.

"So, um, is there a reason why you are blocking the stairs? Are you not feeling well or something? I told you to eat those bloody smoothies, you know what happens when you don't get enough to eat."

You cough a short laugh, "you don't 'eat' a smoothie, Jake."

He huffs in return, "you know what I was getting at."

You don't have the heart to tell him that you haven't drank the smoothies he made for you. They help you get your calorie intake up, you know, because you don't eat much... Jake's always been so kind in supporting you through your difficulties. Difficulties being six years under the label of anorexia nervosa sufferer. Which sucks, to say the least. It isn't that bad nowadays, to be honest. Your body weight is only a little under 'healthy'. You just can't eat much, like a bird, yeah. Lots of food makes you feel icky.

"Are you feeling dizzy? Nauseous?" He pushes, and holds your shoulder. He's one of the only people to know about your disorder, having known him since you were ten, you trust him not to judge you for it, similarly with your sexuality when you 'came out' to your dad. No one else knows the things he knows, no one except him and dad.

"I'm fine, really," you hesitate, and nibble at your lip. "Look, Jake, I need to tell you something, and I just hope you're not mad at me for it..."

He blinks for a minute, and tightens his hold on your shoulder. "You're pregnant."

You blurt out your confusion in a silly little gathering of noises. This fades, and you look up at him past your eyebrows, while one arcs up. "Really, Jake? _Really_?"

"Well, are you?!" He seems completely oblivious of your suggestive answer.

"Of course I am not pregnant, you silly man!" You slap his chest.

He blushes, and pulls his hand back. "I'm just picking out the most logical scenario, and after a girl says _we need to talk_ or something to that effect, it either means breaking up or a baby is growing inside of her! Like with Lucy-"

"Lucy is breaking up with you?" You feel the frown cross your features. That bitch.

The side of his lips rise to give a slight grin, "um... No, she did not, as it happens..."

You jump up and clasp a hand over your heart. "Lucy is pregnant!?"

Jake looks away, down through the banister and into the front hallway. "Bugger..."

"Jake Harley, you answer me right now. Has your girlfriend got a bun in the oven?!" You have to hold the railing to keep your balance, you're a little light headed, perhaps from the shock of the information overload, or maybe you just got up too quickly. You don't like Lucy, and she's never liked you. She doesn't know you are gay, so she always accused you of various things involving Jake, you lived in his house, so she probably had reason to be concerned, in her mind. You thought she was a rat, to be honest. She liked Jake for his money and and his accent, that's all.

"One test said positive, the other negative... So we're going to get a proper test at the hospital on thursday." He looks almost ashamed, like a puppy that urinated the rug.

You move up the steps and lean back down to sit with your knees touching his. You don't know what to say, so you say nothing. Jake had been with Lucy for little over two years, with a couple of 'breaks' here and there. It wasn't as serious a relationship as Jake wanted it to be.

"She was on the pill and everything, and we were careful and stuff..." He runs a hand through his messy hair and avoids making eye contact. "I don't know if I'm ready to be a dad, Jane."

You wrap an arm around the back of his neck and shake his hair gently, "why didn't you tell me?... I'm here if you need to talk, you know that, right?" You want to yell at him for being incompetent, but you can't, because for once he wasn't.

"I didn't want to say anything until we knew for sure!" He blurts out, and finally looks at you. He looks scared.

You feel for him, and the consequences. He could have a child in a year. A small little helpless person that he helped bring into the world, that he was responsible for. He'd lose so much in his life... He was only twenty four.

"Hey, it's okay..." You nearly sing, and pet his head. "It's not a hundred percent positive yet, and even if it is in the end, I'm here to help you, okay? You're my best friend, I'm here for you."

He breathes these thoughts, and soon a half smile curves up his lips. "Thanks, Jane. That means an aweful lot..."

"Besides, I'm sure you would be a great dad. I mean, what other kid can say their father wrestles lions for a living," you giggle and hope it lightens the mood.

"I don't exactly wrestle lions. I just look after them. You'd be surprised how affectionate they are when they like someone."

You know this already, he loves his job at the zoo and never stops talking about it at dinner. You're happy he is so easy to distract sometimes. It helps calm him down. "The big cats love you. And that's amazing! This is just another adventure! You'll see, it'll all work out the way it's supposed to. I'm happy to be here for you no matter what," you make sure to give him your best smile. You don't mention how this scares you. A baby means you have to find your own place soon. Really soon. You're really going to have to make those last few dollars count, maybe take more shifts at The Veil?

"Aww... Couldn't you be straight so I could marry you?" He jokes like usual, and his tan cheeks puffed up with his goofy smile.

"Oh shush," you giggle.

Jake smiles there for a minute before his eyes light up, "oh, so um, what was wrong before?"

"Hm?"

"The whole 'we need to talk' thinger ma jig," he rolled his hand.

Your eyes widen and your mouth goes dry, "I- Please don't be mad."

"I'll certainly try," he shrugs.

You bite at your lip and cringe, "there is someone sleeping on your couch and I invited her here."

His expression turned blank for a good minute or two, until it lit up, "you got yourself a girlfriend?"

"Oh goodness!" You pause and think. That sounds better than inviting a total stranger into his house. But you can't lie to Jake about that! No, no! But... You don't want to admit this morning and the events that transpired... Jake's been so kind and generous with you... He might never trust you again... But maybe he would understand? Arghhhhhh...

"So what's her name?" He asks you happily.

Your mouth hangs open and you try to speak, but it sounds a bit raspy, "R-Roxy...?"

He nods and attempts to sound sly, "so how long has this been going on?"

You blush, and decide it's best to come clean, "we aren't dating, or anything like that. We met at the club, and got talking, and she was a little drunk... And she didn't want to go home like that, so I said she could stay here until she's a bit more coherent..." It's pretty much the truth, okay?

"Oh," he looks a little bit disappointed?

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you first, it's just, it was so early in the morning, and I didn't want to wake you..." You pout for good measure. He can't resist your puppy eyes, he's a sucker for it (in the nicest way possible).

He smiles again, and pushes you lightly, "I understand, but maybe, next time you could leave a note, or something? I'd probably freak out if I came downstairs to a random girl on my couch. I can't imagine what Lucy would think of it... She'd think I had a harem, or some crap!" He chuckles half heartedly.

"Yeah, I'll make sure there's warning in the future, and permission, of course!"

"... So why are you hovering on the stairs?" He asks, and attempts and peak down into the living room.

You hum disheartedly, and roll a shrug, "I... I'm nervous..."

"Oh?" He grins like a child.

"She's just there, you know, Jake? I have never done anything like this before! She was drunk, and I felt bad for her, and now she's not going to be drunk and she's in our house, and I feel so embarrassed to go down there and act awkward and tell her to go, because that would be so rude, and it would be the most uncomfortable thing I have ever had to do in my life!"

"Even more than that pap smear test thing?" He sounds confused.

"Don't be silly, Jake, nothing is more embarrassing than a smear test. You are so lucky you are a guy..." You begin to glow red, "also _ewww!_ "

"Ah ha ha..." He is also red. "Sorry, Janey."

You roll your eyes, and rest your head on both your fists. "This sucks, Jake..."

He coughs, and stands, "Jane. As a gentleman, I will help you with this ill met predicament. Worry not, fair lady, for your hero is here to save the day!" He beams joyfully.

You can't help but giggle at him, and force out a Texan accent, "oh my! Why thank you, kind sir. But whatever are you gonna do?"

He bows, and nearly trips on the stairs, so he grip the wooden handle. His pure English accent shines through better than usual, "why, of course, my fair lady. I shall go down there, wake the poor damsel up and offer her a cool refreshment, and offer to escort her home."

"You are such a charmer," you say softly, and make to stand. You immediately bring him into a hug, and he makes a surprised gulping sound before returning the hug.

"You know I'm here for you, right, Jane? You are the nicest person I've met since coming to the states," he says behind you.

"Thanks, Jake..." You pat his back, and pull away. "You're sweet, everything that I would imagine an Englishman to be like. Not like those young hooligans you see on the tv smoking and drinking god only knows what!"

He rolls his eyes, "I grew up in a rural village, it's hardly the sort of place for that sort of drama. The occasional local scandal here and there, but nothing so serious."

"Hoo hoo!" You smile.

"Now, you relax, miss, and I will handle this situation."

You watch keenly as he does just that. He saunters down the stairs and into the living room, looking back to give you a thumbs up, before leaning over and tapping Roxy's shoulder. "Excuse me," you hear him say. "Excuse me, miss Roxy?"

You hear her groan echo throughout the house, "ohhh... Holy chip..."

"Sorry to wake you so abruptly, miss. I would have waited a while longer, but it would be pretty damn awkward having you lying there unconscious. Are you alright?"

"How diju know my mane?" She holds her head.

"Your what...?"

"Oh... Sorry, that's my..." She takes a pause, "I was drinking, and I... You bo?"

"Um... I suppose I understand, yes."

"So... We fucked, right?"

Jake stiffens, "we, what, no, no!"

"Oh? Reawy? We didn't?"

"We did not," he sounds upset, "not that you aren't stunning, miss. I'm in a relationship, and I'm not one to waver in my loyalty to my partner."

" _Okay_ , so you're gay?"

" _Excuse_ me?"

Your hand claps over your mouth.

"Relaps, handsome. I don't have a pitchfork or somethin' stashed under me to drive out all the evil, natural disaster invoking homos from the holy lands," she giggles dryly. "My bf is in such a situation. The uh, gay part, not the whole... Being driven from the holy lands by fitchporks. Lolz..."

"Um... I am not homosexual..."

"You don't haftu be!" She fans her hand at him.

"I am dating a female, miss."

"Ohhhhh... Rally? You just seem like the type. I mean, who says things like... _Loyalty to my partner._ You could've just said somethin' like _bitch, I don't be cheatin on my sweet ass gf._ No... Scratch that sounds worse," she sniggers.

Jake looks up to you with wide eyes, and you mouth an extravagant apology. You have to make this up to him. Big time.

"Oh wait... No, I 'member now... There was this... Situation, and then a short haired girl, this really sweet girl. Jessie? Jeanette?... Jay? Jane! Yes! Janey! Like Tarzan!"

"Yes, Jane brought you here to rest. You met at the club she works at, The Veil," Jake confirmed.

"She your girly?"

"No, no, no. She's an old friend."

"Cool. She got a man?"

"... Not that... I know of?"

"... She gotta girly?"

He stutters, he freaking stutters. "She- uh, no. No she does not."

"Aww... That's a shame, 'cause she was a real cutie... I'd think she'd have someone. I mean, she'd be alright with you 'cause you seem relaly hot and nice and stuffs. But she's not with anybody, and that's kinda sad and I should stop talkin' now shouldn't I?"

"..."

You blush from ear to ear, and it radiates your face uncomfortably.

She sits up slowly, and holds her head. "I... Whoa... I am super sorry. I just talk sometimes, and stuff blurts out. You seem like a good guy, and she was a good guy slash girl, but just girl, not transgender... Is she transgender? Because that's okay too. Oh god... I'm sorry, I'm just... ... Where am I? Could you tell me that?... You're not gonna kill me, like some psycho couple, but not really couple... I didn't mean to say psycho, it's just..." She starts to hyperventilate and hold her chest.

"Are you alright, miss?" Jake leans over to hold her shoulders.

"I don't want to die... I mean I know I'm not perfect or anythin'... I try, okay? I try and I suck. But I do try! I still have things, not just like, my laptop, or whatever, I have my babies, and Dirk, and that's enough, but not really, but that's okay... Just don't kill me... I'm sorry for all of my blurtin' and stuff..." She sounds like she iss gnawing her bottom lip through half of her speech.

"Ugh... I assure you, miss, nobody's going to harm you in the slightest. If you would be so kind to listen for a moment, I actually woke you to ask if you would like a drink. It could help relieve the stress, and perhaps ease the possibility of a hangover?" You can hear the nervous smile his words speak past. "Now, if you would like some water, or orange or apple or pineapple juice, or tea or coffee, I'm happy to get you some."

There was a long and somewhat uneasy pause, before the girl coughed. "I- um... Could I have some... Milk? Please?"

"Of course!" He beamed, and stood. "Coming right up. Now, you just relax and I'll be back in a minute or two."

"Thanks..." She mumbles, just barely audible to Jane's ears, as Jake walked off to the kitchen. As soon as Jake was out of sight, Roxy began to look about the living room, she stared at the old Victorian fireplace for a while, which lacked any light, but was pretty to look at with the cherubs stretching up the woodwork, wings outstretched. You sometimes forget how much money Jake has, with how humble and naive he can be at times, but there are reminders of his wealth everywhere. He has taste, you believe, at the least. Roxy then looks down at the sofa she is sitting on, likely expecting leather or perhaps even real fur, but she brushes her hand over jade dyed linen, and ivory dyed pillows that matched the feel of the fabric. It is _really_ comfy. Her head moves up, and she looks towards the bay window at the other side of the room. It's decorated with little ornaments and, as you imagine, some kitsch Jake has acquired on his trips to Africa, China, England, and other places that make you just the slightest bit jealous. Then her gaze turns to the hallway, and then the stairs, until she stops at you. Her lips part, and she squints just a little as she tilts her head. She smiles at you, as if to greet an old friend, and brings her hand up to flutter her fingers like a wing in flight.

You find yourself waving back, in a more robotic motion, before smiling shyly down at her. You must look every bit of idiot you feel right now.

"Alright, miss Roxy, I have one glass of milk coming right up!" Jake emerges from the kitchen, full white glass in hand. When he hands it to Roxy, and she takes a sip, she announces, "I should probably go now, I've been here too long as it is, and I feel like a bit of a dick for this."

"Not at all! Everyone has their bad days, or nights. I might not look it, but I've had nights where I've made a fool of myself and regretted. It's just human nature, I suppose," he sounds much friendlier than before, like he were speaking to you or his grandmother, or Lucy.

"... Yeah, well. I think I've made a pretty big fool of myself, enough for a lifetime, thrice. So, I'll just be heading home now..." She pushes her legs off of the couch, and pulls the blanket off of herself.

"Would you like a lift? I'd feel terrible if you were to walk home yourself," he scratches the back of his neck.

"Uh... No, it's too much of a problem, I don't mind walking," she says quietly as she rises to her feet, holding her head with one hand, while the other holds the glass of milk.

"I insist. It's really no bother. It'd be good to get out of the house for a drive, or a walk, or jog, whatever else you can think of really, on a sunday," he laughs lightly.

"... Alright, since your insistin'... Thanks... Is it okay if we go right now? I should really be home hours ago," she looks down.

"Ah, I understand, let me go get the keys and we'll be off," he announces, and marches off to the bay window where he keeps his keys in a little glass bowl. He shakes them, and the bells attached to them jingled, "I love these things... Sadly, they don't charge up a time machine, but they get the job done. Now, tally ho!"

Roxy laughs, places her glass on the coffee table in the middle of the room, and follows him to the door. As they exit, she turns her head and mouths a thank you. And she is gone.

You sit there of the stairs for a while, staring at the door. You imagined things going differently when she woke up, either she was a thief, or crazy. But she wasn't either, which surprises you into thinking about her more. What was she like at home? With her friends? With her children? You frown eventually, and go back upstairs to your room. You like the simplicity of the cream walls, and the paintings of roses that rest on them. The tan carpet made walking feel like stepping on clouds. It's like walking into heaven. You sigh in relief as you close the door behind you, and press your back against the cool, dark wood. You look at your bed, and it's pale blue sheets; neat and ready for another night. You look over to your desk below the open window, and notice your laptop. You smile, thinking of something normal for the first time in hours.

You stride over to the laptop, and take a seat before it. Opening it up, you turn it on, and wait for it to load up everything. As you wait, you look outside where there is a rather big tree greeting you with the songs of birds nestled on it's branches. These are the benefits of a suburban home. Jake was lucky to have such a house, and such a good job. You look back down, and everything is loaded up. You immediately sign into skype, and look for your little brother's picture. He is online, and you click on his goofy expression. You helped him get his skype working, and surprised him for his picture. He now has a wide eyed, open-mouthed, buck toothed expression that brings a smile to your face every time you see it. You are grateful he doesn't yet know how to change his profile picture.

_Beeep._

_Beeep._

_Beeep._

His face pops up on the screen, with his bedroom behind him. You can see his poster of Con Air of the wall, and cringe just a little. Your brother is a little strange.

"Hi Jane!" He light voice cheers.

"Hey there, John," you smile widely, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing, just, you know, on my computer, doing stuff," he isn't looking into the camera, and appears to be clicking through something.

"Hmm... What kind of stuff?" You inquire, resting your head in your hands.

"Games," he replies, "it's super fun!"

"Dad get you a new one?" You watch his eyes glance up to the camera.

"Yeah, it's awesome. Dad got a bunch of 'em," he grins.

You nod into your hands, "that's great. How is everything in school?"

His lips tighten, and a frown emerges, "fine."

Your eyes narrow, and your big sister senses tingle. " _John_?"

"It's... Fine?" He finally looks at you, and stops clicking and typing.

"What's happened this time?" You sigh out.

"..." He glances around the room, pretending everything else is superior in interest. "I..." He mumbles something out that you cannot hear.

"What?" You ask in annoyance.

"I hit Steven White..." You looked down.

Your hands drop and you groan. Steven White has been bullying your little brother since he entered the first grade after the summer. "You hit him," you reiterate.

"Yeah..." He sounds sheepish.

You roll your eyes, "does dad know?"

"Yeah, I told him... He said I did a good job in standing up for myself, and he's proud of me, but violence isn't always the answer." He sounds like he's trying to mimic Dad.

"He's right," you nod, and a silence follows that you don't want. "Did you hit him good?"

He grins, and nods, "he fell and hurt his arm, and everyone laughed, well, Ms Paint didn't laugh, but all the other kids laughed. Nobody really likes him. I guess I kinda feel bad for him, but he deserved it."

"Yes, well. Don't hit him again, just tell Ms Paint, or Dad if he bothers you again. They'll sort everything out, okay?"

"Okay, Jane."

"So how is Dad?" You ask in a lighter voice.

"Um... He's okay. He's got a cold or something, but he said he'll be alright. He's just downstairs doing stuff, like cleaning or something."

You frown, and bite your lip. That's the fifth time this month he's had a cold. You understand it's a lot colder up in Washington, but your father is sensible, he knows how to avoid getting colds and flues. He's even better at hiding it when he does catch something. "I'm sure he'll be as right as rain in no time," you say for your brother, and a little bit for yourself. But you can't help the worry you feel building in your chest.

"Yeah, that's what he said."

"Okay... Well, I'll leave you to play your game. Tell dad I said hi, and I'll call him later. I got to get some study-" you pause as you hear the door knock behind you, "uh, yes. I've got some studying to do, so I'll talk later, okay?"

"Okay, bye Jane!" He grins, and waves his little hand before you say your farewell and end the call.

You turn to look at the door, and call for them to enter.

Jake opens the door, and you knew it would be Jake, who else would it be? "Hey, Janey," he searches his pockets for something, "got something for you... Hm... Aha, here it is." He walks over and hands you a folded piece of paper that looks to be torn from a notepad.

You take it gingerly, and look it over, "what is this?"

"You appear to have made an impression," he replies.

You open it up and stare at the row of numbers, and the winking emoji below it, "this is... A number."

"Yeah, she said she wanted to thank you, and you are to call her when you would like lunch, or dinner, or whatever."

You look up at his joyful expression like a doe in the headlights. "She... Wants to...?"

"Don't look so surprised, Jane! This could be good for you, and besides, she said she would pay. What have you got to lose?"

You look down at the number again, and blink. "A... Date?"

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this during my work breaks. Thank you for reading, and any other support. This will be continued.


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